


Chick Flick Moment

by impalawinchester



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-24 02:42:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13204077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impalawinchester/pseuds/impalawinchester
Summary: The reader convinces the boys to watch The Breakfast Club because she's sick of the action movies, which provokes some chick flick reactions.





	1. Luck with Sam

“We’re watching a chick flick,” you announced as you walked into Sam’s room where they brothers were already hunkered down waiting to start movie night. You put the popcorn on the bed between yourself and Sam and passed over two beers while keeping one for yourself.

Dean groaned and Sam huffed, but you held up your hand.

“We’ve watched every guy movie in existence, there are two of you and double the testosterone, and I need to watch something besides the Shawshank Redemption before I shoot someone.”

“You’re a terrible shot,” Sam said and smirked.

“That’s why I carry a knife, Sam,” you shot back and searched Netflix, “and I know Dean had seen Dirty Dancing.” Dean protested but you shooshed him, reminding him that you were well aware of the beauty of Patrick Swayze. No judgement. You settled on a compromise: The Breakfast Club. It could not be considered a chick flick, but it also wasn’t macho and atrocious.

“Never seen it,” Dean said. You gaped at him, then cut your gaze to Sam, who was frowning in agreement. You waved your hand and started the movie.

“This is the best movie. Timeless. Literally awesome.” Sam and Dean weren’t convinced by any means, but they settled in with their snacks and alcohol and the movie began.

As the scenes rolled by and the plot deepened, you found yourself glancing at the boys instead of focusing on the screen while they got drawn into the world of teenagers. Later, you'd tease them about it and declare your triumph.  But for the moment, you wanted to watch them.

Dean’s brow wrinkled as Claire and Bender fought during the feelings scene, and Sam’s eyes darted away when Brian revealed the pressure he felt. You longed to reach out and remind him that all the pressure was gone, but you didn't.  If you revealed that you were taking advantage of the situation, that would certainly result in a blow to their trust in you. 

But then Dean looked away from the movie entirely when Bender revealed the physical abuse he endured from his father.

Watching Dean became painful, as the truth of John Winchester arose quietly, so you allowed your head to fall on Sam’s shoulder to avoid the temptation of seeing Dean vulnerable. It felt invasive, seeing Dean without a mask and without his knowing.

But your move made Sam stiff and tense under your head. You shifted away from him moments after you touched, regretting causing him discomfort and yet yearning for him to welcome you with open arms.  Even though you were close with the Winchester brothers, they didn't open up to you like they did to each other.

You pushed the hurt deep down, averted your eyes from Dean and also from Sam, who was cutting glances to you – you ignored both of them and focused again on the movie, finding yourself unable to find interest in the plot again. So you drifted into your thoughts, of the boys who treated you like a sister yet found great trouble in opening up to you after years of hardening. They had become all that mattered in your life, and it pained you to know they suffered quietly. Pained you to know you could offer them no solace, no relief, no shoulder to lean on.

Endure, you did. Endure, you must.

Towards the end of the movie, you were completely lost in thought, enchanted with fantasies of Sam and Dean being able to talk to you about what hurt, about reaching out to your boys and them allowing it.

But then Sam did reach out. And his hand, his enormous, rough, warm hand brushed against yours and his fingers slid through yours and your whole chest exploded with love. He was watching the movie still, but the pad of his thumb ran over your wrist over and again.

The movie ended and Judd Nelson’s fist was thrust into the air and out of the corner of your eye you spied Dean swipe at his face and he stood quickly, mumbled something about getting another beer, and out the door he went. Sam sighed. Dean was far less likely than he to reveal his feelings, and he only ever broke down when lives were truly at stake.

“I’ll go,” Sam said and swung his legs off the bed.

Fuck it.

“No, let me,” you said and followed Dean out the door. You had luck with one Winchester, may as well use it while you possessed it on the other.


	2. Luck with Dean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader manages to get through to Dean.

Dean was in the kitchen, leaning on the counter, one hand rubbing his face with his empty beer still on the counter. He stood straight and wiped his face of emotion when he noticed you, but you had seen all you needed to.

“Dean…” you started, but Dean turned his back on you, opened the fridge and retrieved another beer.

“Movie wasn’t half-bad.” You stepped closer to him, with his back to you as he leaned down to grab a bottle.

When he stood as you wrapped your arms around him quickly, before he could protest, and your nose touched the center of his back. Dean, like his brother, stiffened and stilled. Cleared his throat and chuckled weakly.

“Feeling cuddlely today?” he asked and started to shrug you off but you wouldn’t let go. You hoped that maybe if he knew his face was hidden, you could reach him.

“You’re okay, Dean. Sam and I aren’t going anywhere, and no one’s going to hurt you like that again.” He snorted.

“What the hell are you taking about?” He said and took your hands from his chest and pulled them off. When he turned, his eyes were stony. But you wouldn’t give up. Dean deserved more.

“Your father is never going to burn you with a cigarette again, Dean. Sam isn’t going to hurt you, I won’t hurt you, Cas won’t hurt you. You’re loved. Please don’t get hung up on what your father did to you.”

“I’m fine,” he said and brushed past you, beer forgotten.

“Dean, please.” He spun, inches from your face.

“Drop it. I mean it.”

“I mean it, too. You don’t have to be alone.”

“I have my brother breathing down my neck constantly, Cas looking at me like I’m a broken man, and you looking at me like –" He shook his head, unable to continue.

“Looking at you like I wish you’d just let me hug you and take care of you for five damn minutes.” Dean shook his head.

“Dean Winchester, you are impossible.  But I love you anyway.”

The luck had run out. Fine, then. You said what you meant to.  There was nothing more to do.

You spun on her heel and headed back to Sam’s room, or maybe your own to be by yourself. But as you rounded the corner, Dean’s arms slipped round your waist, his head buried in your neck, body pressed against yours. You held onto his forearms, leaned back into him.

“I know I am,” he said, “I know.”

So you turned in his arms and held him, trembling, for several long moments until you finally pulled back so you could touch his cheek. He leaned into that touch, closed his eyes, and his face was sad and open.

"I love you, too," he whispered. 

“I’ve got you,” you said.

“I know.”


End file.
